A Little Princess No More
by R9-regrin9
Summary: Cast onto the streets, Sara is no longer under Miss Minchin's wing.
1. Chapter One

Based on the 1995 motion picture version of Frances Hodgson Burnett's 'A Little Princess'.  
  
"Eye of newt, and toe of frog,  
  
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,  
  
Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting,  
  
Lizard's leg, and howlet's wing,--  
  
For a charm of powerful trouble,  
  
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble."  
Sara Crewe, just eighteen, pranced around her tiny room in the attic. An imaginary cauldron sat in the center of the room which she danced around. Taking a pinch of dust from her windowsill she threw it into the boiling cauldron.  
She picked up a large ladle and began the strenuous task of stirring the thick and repulsive concoction; wrinkling her nose in distaste as the smell drifted past her nose. At that moment, Becky crept quietly into the room.  
"What are you about, Miss?"  
Startled, Sara gasped and straightened. She felt silly playing her old childhood games, but it was the only thing that brought her joy and allowed to be free of the depressing reality. "Just playing."  
Becky smiled widely, "Up to your old games again, I've no doubt." She settled herself on Sara's bed and nodded, "Go on, Miss. Tell me what story you were living this time."  
Sara returned the smile; it had always been this way. Becky never scoffed at her fantasies no matter how ridiculous they were. Dropping her voice into a low whisper, Sara cackled wickedly and said, "I'm one of the three ugly witches in Macbeth."  
"Macbeth, Miss?"  
"A story, written long ago." Sara hobbled forward and pulled her shawl over her head with just her face showing. "I'm about to conjure a ghost!"  
Becky shuddered and pretended to be afraid, but her eyes danced with merriment.  
Turning to her imaginary cauldron once again, Sara began chanting and spinning around it. "'Eye of newt, and toe of frog, wool of bat and tongue of dog, adder's fork.' Come on Becky say it with me." She held her hands out and Becky eagerly scrambled from the bed to take them within her own. Sara didn't even notice the rough calluses or how filthy they were, her hands were the same – cleanliness was not given to maids.  
They chanted together, spinning faster and faster till they were too dizzy to stand and then they fell to the floor with more gales of laughter – and still their laughter was quiet. Maids were not allowed to be noticed.  
"Oh Miss, I don't know the proper words." Becky wiped her eyes of the tears of joy that lingered. "But it sure be fun to say."  
Crossing her legs before her, Sara looked into Becky's dirty face and grinned, "Repeat after me. 'Eye of newt, and toe of frog –"  
The door banged open with a crack that shook dust from the ceiling rafters. "Black magic? Is this what I get after all I've done for you Sara? Your curses and spells?" It was Miss Minchin. Hair tied back in a severe knot, it appeared that she had not yet readied herself for bed despite the late hour. "Practicing your witch craft under my roof?" Although her voice was low, it held an underlying tone that was filled with disgust.  
Scrabbling to her feet, Sara stood meekly before the keeper. "No Miss Minchin. I was quoting some lines from a story."  
"You dare call that quoting? I've really had it up to here with your little stories, Sara." Miss Minchin paced through Sara's room, her heels clicked smartly on the wooden floors and her drab coloured gown swished with every step. "All these years Sara, I've put up with so much." Facing Sara she gave a look that to many would appear contrite, but Sara knew better, "What would happen if any of the students caught onto your little games?"  
Sara gave Becky a look to quell her want to answer and Becky nodded her understanding when she caught the look. Sara opened her mouth to answer Miss Minchin's question, but the woman held her hand up and replied distastefully, "No, don't answer that. No doubt you'll have some other excuse for yourself." She sighed, "No Sara, this is the last draw. For the best interest of the school, I want you to leave. I want you gone. I want to never see you again! Do you understand?"  
Sara was not one to beg and had never done so in her life, but on this occasion, something tore at her and she immediately dropped to her knees. Well aware that was serious, that she would be a goner if she were to live on the streets. "Please, Miss Minchin. Give me another chance."  
Miss Minchin raised her brow scornfully and scoffed, "What is this? A 'princess' begging?" She forced a laugh and shook her head, "A princess no more. Perhaps a princess of the streets, but not here." Her voice shifting to quieter more menacing tone, she continued, "Too long have you poisoned these girls minds. Too long have I fed and clothed you. Too long have you been taking from my hand and not repaying me."  
Refraining from saying that all of Miss Minchin's points were false, Sara clasped her hands before her and attempted again, "Please, I was only quoting. That is all. I promise I'll never do it again. I swear." Already she could feel a lump forming in her throat. She had heard the tales of the girls who lived on the streets; selling themselves just to keep the rumble from their empty stomachs. Tears were already blurring her vision, but she wouldn't allow them to fall. Not before Miss Minchin – princesses never cried, at least not in public.  
Waving her hand to dismiss Sara's pleas, Miss Minchin strode to the door, "Becky, I hope that you didn't pick up on any of these distasteful habits, I would sorely hate to lose such a hard worker." At these words, Becky gave a sad and woeful look at Sara and fled to her room.  
Still standing at the door, Miss Minchin held it open and said, "Come along Sara, take what you want, but I doubt you've anything to take." She sniffed at Sara's appearance on the floor, "I'm glad that I've ground that little princess attitude out of you."  
It was choking her and Sara couldn't do anything, she was scared. There had been times she'd been frightened, but it had never been like this gut wrenching fear. Her muscles were tense and bile rose in her throat. Never had it been like this. A lone tear escaped and trailed along her down cast face to fall to her clutched hands. More would have followed but she closed her eyes tightly.  
She bent her head forward a little more, her hair curtaining around her face to hide her fear. Whispering, "Papa? If you can hear me wherever you are, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I was not perfect. I'm sorry for not being your little angel. I'm sorry I'm not your little princess. I'm sorry, Papa." And now she couldn't help the tears, for they flowed without thought down her smooth cheeks. It hurt this pain, this fear.  
A draft of air caressed her tear stained cheek and whispered in her ear, 'Sara...Sara...Sara...be strong...Sara...'  
"Sara!"  
She jumped, the moment broken and she rose to her feet gracefully and straightened. She would not leave here like a whipped puppy, she would still try to be the princess again. For Papa. Her doll she would leave behind, Becky would be able to get more love out of it. Her locket, was hers. "Please, if you could give my doll to Becky."  
Miss Minchin made no promises, but merely nodded which Sara had to take as her word. Sara took one last despairing look at her room and followed the keeper down the rickety stairs, flight after flight, until they reached the main hall where the girl's rooms led off. Not once did Sara falter in her descent and nor would she allow her tears to blind her. As they went down the final grand staircase down into the foyer Sara could hear doors creak open and she felt all the more shamed for it. They were seeing her be kicked out of a place that, despite the daily hostility and chores, had become home.  
Unlocking the inner doors and then the front doors, Miss Minchin held it open, letting the biting air come gusting in. "Good bye Sara."  
Sara stepped out of the house and into the real world. "Good bye Miss Minchin." And Sara, without a backwards glance, marched down the stairs as if she had a destination in mind. Little did she know, were the faces of every girl in the house pressed to the windows; Becky at the highest window bawling her heart out and holding Sara's doll close to her chest.  
  
Sara was out in the real world now where fantasies were put aside and dreams cast away. She had to fend for herself now and despite what her heart tried to tell her, her mind was set on the fact that she was a little princess no more. 


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two  
  
Sara stared blindly out at the streets. Cold and hunger took their toll on her and she conserved every ounce of energy she had. Ms Minchin had obviously spread word of Sara for none would hire her, not even for less than what Ms Minchin had paid her. Grimacing slightly as another pang of hunger bit her stomach, she adjusted her position on the cold cobblestone street.  
A few passersby stepped around her and she held her hand out pleadingly, "Please, a coin for my hunger?" She hated to imagine how filthy she was – and she had thought she'd been dirty before, now, it was inescapable. There wouldn't be any place for her to wash until the spring when the available water would begin to thaw.  
The man began to reach into his pockets, but his wife hastily pulled him away chastising him for giving money away to a little whore. He withdrew his hand and continued on his way while Sara felt the tears well up in her eyes again – not for the first time. It just wasn't fair; and the voice in her head kept on telling her that she'd been wrong all along about being special. If she were so special would she be here? Her sadness and fear turned to that of anger. Why had the war taken her papa away?  
The tears rolled down in fat droplets across her thinning cheeks and fell to the snow where they melted it slightly. Sniffling a little she took a deep breath, habits that were long established were still in effect, she hated being seeing so helpless. Or was she? Perhaps she just wasn't trying hard enough. Gathering the few measly shreds of cloth that she'd found in various alleys, she folded them and tied them up in a square of cloth.  
"I will not lose hope, I will not let Ms Minchin win, I will live."  
A fellow homeless lady snorted and cackled, showing her rotten teeth and blackened gums. "That so, Missy?" She slapped her bony leg and laughed the harder sending herself into a painful hacking cough.  
Sara stared at the deteriorated state of the woman and mentally shuddered, along with she told herself that she would indeed live, and not like this woman here, she'd live to see a much better life.  
  
Two months later, a lot lighter in weight and not any nearer to success, Sara was looking painfully ill. Her cheeks were sunken into her face, her eyes were dull and there was nothing that could make her move at a pace faster than a shuffle. She ached and she easily exhausted herself. She was nearly dead to the world around her, for no emotion ever showed upon her pale face.  
She turned her eyes to the muddy streets and watched distantly as little boys skipped and chased one another with pretend rifles, while little girls in frilly dresses and warm coats stepped cautiously over the puddles that would dirty their shoes. She'd once been like them.  
This was her life, every day was the same and more often than not, she'd have next to nothing to eat. Begging at the back doors of fancy eating houses and rich households. She'd long ago given up the hope that anyone would hire her, especially with the way she appeared now.  
Sighing deeply at the disgusting society surrounding her, she forced herself to blink. Even the simplest actions had to be focused on. Voices, loud voices. Were they talking to her? They drifted through her haze of awareness rather sharply, she better turn her head.  
There before her were three men, just a little younger than she was. Had they scrubbed the sneers from their faces, they could have been deemed at the very least, smart looking. Obviously from the upper class; she wrinkled her nose, and they were very obviously drunk. Their breath could be smelled even from where she sat.  
"Hey, you. Wench, I'm talking to you!"  
She blinked again. They were talking to her?  
One of the men nudged the other and gestured obscenely, "I'll give you fifteen pounds and consider you debts to be gone if you kiss her."  
The man in question frowned heavily and staggered slightly on the spot, his speech was heavily slurred, "I'lls do nuthin of th'sort. Looks at 'er, she's more muhd than womans."  
Another poke in the ribs, "No debt's from either of us and I'll throw in another fifty pounds."  
At this, the more drunk of the three looked around blearily, "Tha's sisty five. I'm not doin' nuthin till at leas' 'undred." He struggled to cross his arms, found it impossible and let his arms fall back to his side.  
Sara stared in shock and disgust at both the two men laughing at the other and at herself. She was too weak to even make an attempt to run for it, let alone scream for help – besides, who would listen to the pleas of a homeless person? She held onto the slim chance that perhaps they were talking about someone else.  
"Fine, one hundred pounds and not a half penny more! Now remember, not just a little peck!"  
The two men laughed and slapped the drunk friend forward, who glared back at them but staggered forward nonetheless. Toward Sara. She tucked her feet tighter to her body and hugged her knees, hiding her face in her arms. Whimpering in fright, she listened in fear as the man stomped clumsily closer.  
"Come 'ere, l'il gurlie." He held out his hands, she saw that out of the corner of her eye and she shrank even further against the wall. Pain exploded in her head as she suddenly faced her tormentor. With a handful, of her once glorious hair, he could easily see her features. His face went blank for a moment and then turned sinister, "Yur a purty one."  
Fear bubbled up within her and a scream fought its way up her throat, but it was never released as the man grabbed her by the neck and pressed her against the wall. Gasping for air and weakly clawing at the monster attacking her she felt the life drain away from her, even the cruel laughter of this man's two friends faded away.  
Oh God, just make it quick. Please just end this pain, this misery, this torture.  
She felt his lips drag across her cheek and quivered in revulsion as they made their way to her mouth. When they did make it, she snarled and bit into his lip. Hard. He screeched and backhanded her so hard that the world spun around her; he had let go though so she was able to drag in a few breaths before he hoisted her up to her feet by her neck.  
"You l'il bitch!"  
And this time, it was no backhand lash; it was a full forced fisted punch that knocked her mind away from the pain and the degrading actions he would likely take with her body. Blissful darkness overcame her.  
  
She felt so clean and content, surely she must be in heaven now. Even the coverlets that covered her body felt like silk against her skin. A small smile touched her face, but it quickly faded as a lance of pain so strong lashed through her hazy vision. Was there supposed to pain in heaven? She didn't understand.  
Moving her arms to stretch, she groaned as more of the pain flashed in her head and along her limbs.  
"Ah, you're awake, about time too. We were all getting a little worried about whether or not that bloke had done any damage to yer pretty head there." Sara had yet to open her eyes, but she was almost certain that she wasn't in heaven. Tears almost spilled through her tightly shut lids, but she was alive and they stopped.  
"Your lucky that the master came along when he did, otherwise that nasty man would have most likely had his terrible way with you. And then what? Where would you be then? Oh you poor lamb, you look like you haven't eaten in a year!"  
That was closer to the truth than Sara would have liked to admit. But she decided to feign sleep, or at least to have fallen back asleep. She really could take the incessant chatter from the maid at the moment. She was almost disappointed in the fact that she would not be seeing her parents and that reason alone was reason enough to allow the damns set around her heart to open. Too long had she tried to keep everything to herself, and this was the final stage.  
But the woman would not leave and Sara had no option but to let her tears to flow freely down her now clean cheeks. A hiccup was what finally drew the woman's attention to Sara.  
"My dear, I'm sorry. Here I've been nattering on like an old hag. Come here poppet." A heavy weight was added to the side of the bed which Sara lay on. Soft arms came around Sara's body and enfolded her in an equally soft embrace. The woman was large, round and incredibly warm. "There there. Feel free to cry your heart out. You've been through quite the ordeal. Come, come." Sara didn't object and she let herself she cry herself hoarse. It didn't help when all this attention was being lavished on her as if she were naught but a young child waking from a horrible dream. Perhaps this was all a dream and she really was waking from it.  
She opened her eyes. 


	3. Chapter Three

**A/N**: Sorry it has taken me so long to get this chapter out, I've been on holidays. Enjoy!

Chapter Three

The room that Sara was in was huge. No, that was an understatement. It was massive. There weren't even rooms that big at Ms Minchin's. And although the room in her home in India had been comfortably large, it was nothing compared to this. There were even doors leading off from the room she was in now.

"Oh my!"

Sara looked to the woman. She appeared to be the cook of the house judging by the size of her girth. "I beg your pardon?"

The woman broke into gales of laughter, "Yer, beggin' my pardon? Yer a lady through and through!" She held her rolling tummy as she brought her laughter under control, "I was jes commenting on yer eyes, beautiful – all stormy like."

Sara blushed slightly, it was the first compliment she'd received in years. Self consciously, she pulled the covers up to her chin; she felt nearly naked in the light linen nightgown she'd been lent. Reaching up, she tentatively touched her cheek, it felt tender and swollen.

The woman tutted and pulled her hand away, "Musn't touch that m'lady. I've put a balm on that bruise there to help with the pain, but don't disturb it." Leaning closer to inspect the area, the woman nodded in what Sara assumed was approval.

An awkward pause ensued and it dawned on Sara that she didn't know the woman's name, "Please, what is your name?"

Gasping, the lady appeared aghast, "Me name? How awful of me. Me name is Miss Jenkins – I'm the cook here abouts." A clock chimed somewhere in the house and Miss Jenkins tipped her head to listen to the number of chimes. Six. "Lordy, I've got to get the dinner ready. I told that Jenny to see to the starts of it, but who knows – that girl is so lazy." Heaving herself off the soft bed, Miss Jenkins straightened the blankets around Sara and fluffed the other two pillows that Sara was not using. "There we go. I don't thinks you'll be wanting to come down for dinner with the master, so you just ring when you want something brought up."

Sara only nodded; she was already snuggling down under the thick downy duvet cover and sleep claimed her almost immediately.

Hours later she heard voices enter her room, but her lids were so heavy she couldn't will them to open.

"...asleep for two days now, m'lord, she did get up for a bit..." That was obviously Miss Jenkins.

Another voice spoke, one so melodious and deep it seemed to reverberate through Sara's head, "...has she eaten anything?"

"Nothing."

"Let her sleep. I'm off to the country tonight, but let her stay as my guest. If what you say is true, about her being of good upbringing, then I'd like to find out why she's been living on the streets."

"When will you be returnin' m'lord?"

"I'll send a footman ahead of me for my return."

"Very well."

There was a soft click as the door was shut behind Sara's guests and the quiet footsteps making their way down the hall. Snuggling down into the soft sheets, she let her mind drift away from the meaning of the master's words. It just meant that she'd have to meet her savior when he came back.

When one is safe, their mind is allowed to ease out of its ceaseless job of keeping alert. Sara was no exception to this. After months of barely reaching the depths of restful sleep, she was beyond the point of mere tiredness. She was exhausted to the bone.

It was three days later when Miss Jenkins gently woke Sara from her deep slumber. "M'lady?" she whispered in the softest of tones, "Ye must get up. Gots t'eat sumpthin, I reckon, with all that there sleep ye've had." She nudged Sara and tugged on the quilts urgently, "An' besides, Master James is back from the war. He's a trifle mad that his father ain't 'ere. And the Lady wants to see ye." A frightened look crossed her face, and she nervously twiddled her thumbs.

Miss Jenkins stepped back a few feet to give Sara some room. Sitting up in the overly large bed, Sara, for the first time took in her surroundings with a clarity that she hadn't had for months. Though still weak for lack of food, she felt more restored than she had in ages. Realizing that her excuse for clothing would not be suitable for the finery of this house, Sara asked, "Is there anything that I could borrow from one of the maids, perhaps?"

Turning from her perch at the window, Miss Jenkins nodded brusquely and went to the mahogany wardrobe. Opening the doors, she pushed through the clothes that seemed to spring out at her. "'ere we go. This aught to do the trick, mayhap a bit out of style, but no one will notice it. Ye'll look right pretty in this."

Pulling out a day dress more suitable for court, Miss Jenkins fluffed the skirts up a bit and hung it on the dressing divider set up in the corner. "Now, I reckon ye'll be needin' some undergarments as well," she eyed Sara up and down as best as she could, "I'd say yer as close to m'lady as anything."

At the mention of the Lady of the house again, Sara sprang from her bed with as much energy as she could muster, "Oh please, you mustn't intrude on the Lady for my sake, my own will suffice."

"Suffice dear? Why of course they won't. They've been burned, they have."

Before the shocked Sara could say anything more, Miss Jenkins rushed out the door presumably to find something for Sara to wear. Another shock was in store for Sara, however, and before she could even sit down from the first, her door was thrown open by a tall, elegantly dressed woman. There wasn't a doubt in Sara's mind as to who was here. It was the Lady of the house.

Heat rushed to Sara's cheeks, she knew she looked wretched; she hadn't been exposed to the genteel world in years. She hadn't been allowed to mingle with families when they came to Miss Minchin's – she felt awkward before this fashionable woman. Issuing a clumsy curtsy in her nightdress, Sara waited for the woman to say something.

"Well I see you have manners at the least," the woman finally said, "Just like Miss Jenkins said, I'm rather surprised though, considering the last one Gabriel dragged in." She circled Sara much like a predator circling its prey might. "You're a little thin, weak looking too. Do you have any skills?"

"I can teach, I speak French, I can sew and mend, I can clean and help in the kitchens. I've been told that I'm very good with young children." Sara would have gone on in her nervous state listing every possible thing that would come to her panic stricken mind, but the woman before her held up a commanding hand.

"Enough. You sound well educated for someone off the streets; what is your name?"

"Sara Crew, m'lady."

A dark brow rose into a graceful arch, "Really?" She searched Sara's face for something, "I knew a man by the name of Crew, he married and left the country, taking with him his new bride, strange that his name should pop up again like that." The Lady's eyes grew distant, "Yes, a military man, he was – pity he moved." Her eyes cleared once more and she straightened her shoulders and cleared her throat.

Sara listened and couldn't help but wonder if this woman knew her father. Crew, after all, couldn't be all that common of a name. And if she knew her father, then perhaps she had also known her mother.

"I have no children young enough to be in the nursary, but I do have a daughter in need of a French tutor. I'm afraid she's lacking in that area. Since Gabriel has ordered that you be offered a position in this house, I would think that this one will best suit you."

Sara could only assume that this 'Gabriel' that the woman kept referring to was the man who'd saved her.

"I also have two sons, one of which has just come home from the war. You will address me as Lady Stonebrook, or as my Lady. My eldest son will be Master Robert and my other son is Master James to you. My lord, husband, to you is the same as myself. Lord Stonebrook, or my Lord. My daughter is Miss Charlotte, I just pulled her from an awful school. I don't know what I was thinking sending her there. She was doing wonderfully well and then some incident happened. She began doing poorly in her studies, not to mention her French." Lady Stonebrook looked again to Sara, "I'll give you twenty pounds and one week to prepare yourself; books and clothing and whatever else you may need. We'll feed and bed you, not in this room of course, one in the servant's quarters, which I'll show you."

Lady Stonebrook paused for a moment, "Well don't just stand there, get dressed." She indicated the dress that Miss Jenkins had pulled out of the closet. "It's entirely unsuitable, but until you get your own wardrobe it will have to do."

Sara mutely obeyed and took the dress with her behind the dressing dividers. Pulling the nightdress over her head, she shivered at the coolness of the room and quickly dragged the day dress on. Turning to see herself in the mirror, Sara gasped and her hands flew to the bare flesh that was exposed.

"How does it fit, Sara?" Lady Stonebrook inquired.

Tugging at the bodice, Sara lamented, "It's a bit small in the chest."

Lady Stonebrook stepped around the divider and again raised a brow. Spinning Sara around she quickly and efficiently fastened the row of small seed buttons down the back, forcing Sara gasp as the wind was crushed from her lungs. "It's a bit snug, m'lady and I can't be possibly seen with so much of me showing." She looked down to where the tops of her breasts were now presented to the world.

"Nonsense. It's almost spinsterish that style, my own daughter shows more of herself than you and she's not nearly as fortunately endowed as you." Sara almost smiled.

Sara was shown the entire house, not just the servants quarters, and much of the gardens in the back. She'd been fed and felt as strong as possible. But even now, she felt nervous. There were many rooms and rules for each it seemed; servants were only allowed through this room in the morning and this room in the evening. She had yet to run into another servant and she was in desperate need of one now. She had been told by Lady Stonebrook to see Miss Charlotte after their tour of the house. Sara had been shown, and she knew where it was were she coming from her room, but not from the kitchens.

Although Lady Stonebrook seemed strict, she was obviously kind enough to allow her husband's 'orphans from the streets' stay and work. _Please don't let me mess up_, she prayed. As an after thought she added, _and show me the way to Miss Charlotte's room_, knowing full well that no golden light would appear to light the way. She did smile at that thought and smiled the harder when she realized how long it had been since she had last done so. No path lit her way, but some just as good did appear.

"Excuse me sir, could you by any chance tell me the way to Miss Charlotte's rooms?"

The servant stiffened, then relaxed and turned to her. In his eyes she caught a sight of someone haunted, but it quickly faded into a devilish smile, "Ah, you must be the new street girl." He eyed her appreciatively, "Though no girl by reckoning."

Sara blushed as his gaze roved over her and she was made all the more aware of how low cut the dress was. Crossing her arms over her chest, she waited for him to say something for she knew not how to respond to such rakish remarks.

His grin spread further across his face, "My apologies. They said you were well brought up, and no gentleman would have said something like that." He was far too handsome for his own good, Sara decided, that smile of his alone was enough for her to forgive him.

"Well? Do you, or do you not know the way to Miss Charlotte's rooms?" she asked severely, shocked that such a servant would be allowed to work here.

The man laughed and bowed gracefully, "Of course I know, her rooms are up those stairs and third door on the right."

Sara curtsied and bobbed her head, "Thank you sir."

The man gave another infuriating laugh and winked roguishly, "Best you call me Master James, otherwise mother will have your head." And with Sara blushing to the roots of her hair and gaping, he sauntered down the hall and into the kitchen.

Master James! Completely mortified and ashamed of the tones she'd used, she hurried up the stairs he'd indicated and willed herself to calm. That insolent, too-handsome man, he could have told her who he was at first which would have avoided much embarrassment.

Standing before Miss Charlotte's door she pushed her blunder to the back of head. She was determined not to mess things up with the girl who was to be her pupil. Lifting a hand to the wooden door, she knocked politely and waited.

No answer came and Sara supposed that the girl had not heard, so she tentatively opened the door a crack and called, "Miss Charlotte? Are you in there?"

"Yes, sorry I did not hear you. Please come in."

Sara stepped into the room. It was large, even larger than the one she'd spent the last few days in, if possible. A girl was sitting at her vanity, her hair was being brushed by a maid. She was still in her nightdress, and Sara glanced away, afraid that the girl wouldn't appreciate being seen in her night clothes. Looking out the window that overlooked the gardens she said, "I'm to be your French –"

"Sara? Is that you?"

Sara spun around to face the girl, "Lottie?"


	4. Chapter Four

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! They keep me going.

Chapter Four

"Oh Sara, it is you! Whatever happened? I heard the gossip. It's terribly romantic, I never thought you were one to do something like that, I mean true, your stories were all adventurous and the like, but to actually run off like that!"

The little girl that Sara once knew was staring out through a woman's eyes now. How strange it seemed, that little girl was all grown up. Cautiously, she asked, "And what exactly did you hear?"

Lottie smiled and bounced on her seat, her once straight hair was now fashionably cut and curled, bounced about her face. "Well that you ran away with your lover, of course." She paused a moment, "I must say though, that when you left you didn't seem happy to be going to your lover. All of us girls were fair swooning at the thought. Lavinia, of course, was entirely skeptical, saying that there wasn't a way on earth that a man would like you. She thought that you'd been cast out." She giggled and added, "But obviously that's nonsense. Everybody loved you Sara, no one would ever hurt you." She turned back to the mirror to allow the maid to finish up with her hair.

How wrong she was, Sara thought, floored. It was obvious that Miss Minchin had spread a nasty rumor to cover up her own cruelty. Only she would think to cover up the horrible truth with something even more wicked. And to think that Lavinia was the only one who was close to the truth. And Lottie? What had happened to the sweet girl that she remembered? Understandably, Lottie had grown up before her very eyes when Sara had been working for Miss Minchin, but she had never been like this. Not so totally oblivious to that around her.

And now she was to be her tutor once more.

"So tell me Sara, where is he? The man you ran off with? What is he like?"

Sara shook her head and looked Lottie in the eye through the reflection in the mirror, "They were just rumors, Lottie, nothing more."

The maid brushing Lottie's hair gasped and paused in her actions. Lottie signaled her to continue, but then looked to Sara with just a tinge of haughtiness, "If you would address me as Miss Charlotte, I'm no longer a little girl."

Sara forced herself to curtsy and apologized. Could this really be Lottie?

"If your man was just a rumor, why did you leave? You would never have left me."

"I was released." _Ha! That was putting it mildly._ Sara was surprised at the anger in that thought and she quickly suppressed the urge to see what else would follow that line.

"Oh."

A simple answer and Lottie – Miss Charlotte was happy? Ruefully, Sara released the memory of the girl Lottie once had been.

"Well, you're here now. And I'm terribly pleased, now I'll be able to take you shopping at the French shops and you'll be able to translate for me! My head hurts dreadfully when I try to speak the language." Hair complete in a complex mound of curls and artfully placed ribbons, Lottie examined herself in the mirror and nodded her approval. Moving to the door that led to her dressing room, she told her maid to pull out her lavender dress.

Sara, stood her ground, not moving an inch since she'd entered Miss Charlotte's room. She felt like an intruder – a cherry in a bowl of apples. After being an 'unseen' servant for so many years, she didn't know how to act around people of the peerage.

The maid returned holding a good half dozen lavender dresses on her arms. "Which lavender dress, Miss?"

Charlotte tapped a finger to her chin and looked over her options, "I don't know. Sara, which one do you think would suit. Michael Carrisford is to come by this afternoon to take me for a ride through the park." She clapped her hands, "I know, you can be our chaperone! Michael Carrisford is an exceptional man, even you'll have to admit that. The splitting image of his father, only younger." She turned her eyes once more the gowns weighing her maid down. "Now which one?"

Sara looked them over, afraid to touch any lest her rough hands snag on the fine fabric. Eyeing a modest one with a frill of lace on the sleeves, Sara pointed to it.

Plucking it from the maid's arms, Lottie inspected it, a frown quickly crossed her features, "Goodness no, Sara. It's awful, nothing will show when I wear this," glancing over to what Sara was wearing she added, "Although, I must say it's much better than that thing you're wearing."

Sara blushed despite herself and dipped her head. She felt out of place with a girl that she was once at ease with. "I beg your pardon, Miss Charlotte."

Hands nervously twining themselves in the fabric of her dress, Sara watched as Charlotte went through the dresses and discarded each and everyone of them. Throwing her arms up, Lottie wailed to no one in particular, "Why can't I get a new wardrobe? Everyone else is! My clothes are all out of style!"

Stomping her feat and screaming, Sara watched in amazement as Lottie fell into a wailing pile of a thoroughly angered girl. The maid had since fled, falling to her knees beside the younger girl, Sara wrapped Lottie in her arms as she had done in the past to calm the quaking child. She didn't know how to react to a young woman, but she didn't think that treating her as she was would do any harm.

"Oh Sara, everything was perfect at Miss Minchin's before you left. Why'd you leave me? You were the only one who understood me. We were sisters, you and I." She sniffled into the sleeve of her nightdress. A slow smile touched her lips and she added quietly, "I have a new mama."

Lady Stonebrook. Sara supposed it made sense, Charlotte's father had remarried finally after all these years. It was a shame he hadn't done so sooner, Lottie apparently needed a loving touch. What surprised Sara even more was how Lottie's father was so kind, yet his child was so spoiled.

"Lady Stonebrook?"

Miss Charlotte nodded, "Helen. She's a beautiful lady. She and papa married a year ago, she brought into this marriage her two sons. But she is wonderful, she told me to call her mother and she tells her friends that I'm her daughter. It's wonderful."

_To have a mother again, _Sara thought bitterly, how fickle the upper class seemed. To able to replace your mother, Sara was certain that she wouldn't be able to do that.

A frantic knocking at Lottie's door pulled them both out of their reverie and had them jumping to their feet. Charlotte quickly yanked on a robe and wiped her face of her tears. Her hair would need to be redone as there were limp strands hanging down in disarray. She cleared her throat and called out, "Yes? Who is it?"

A deep, but gruff voice answered, "You know damn well who it is. Now open up, I heard screaming."

Lottie chortled and replied, "The door isn't locked."

A pause followed before the door was thrown open. Since Sara had not seen this man before, Sara assumed that this was Lady Stonebrook's eldest son, Robert.

"Robert. What is it?"

"You screamed."

Sara studied him from her vantage point, he was slighter built than his brother, but then, James had served in the army. He was taller, however, but that made little difference to Sara. Both were a good head taller than her short stature, although she was still considered to be on the taller side of average.

Charlotte shrugged carelessly – a practiced move by the looks of it. "I've done so before, Robert."

His cloudy gaze roamed the room and finally settled on Sara. A heavy brow lifted into a sardonic arch, there was nothing friendly about this man. "Is she the reason you screamed?" He asked his stepsister indicating Sara in the corner.

"Sara? Good heavens no. Why?" A genuinely puzzled expression crossed Lottie's face, "Should I be afraid of her? Do you know something that I don't?" She cast an accusing glare at Sara then marched up to her and demanded, "You're pregnant aren't you? With that man you ran off with no doubt! That's why Robert thinks that I should be upset with you."

Quick to deny it, Sara shook her head and pleaded, "Oh no! You mustn't think that, it's as far from the truth as possible!"

Robert stepped forward and gently pulled back Lottie whose fists were tightly clenched at her sides. "Now look what you've done. She's got herself all into disarray and she's to meet Michael Carrisford in less that an hour."

The raging pinkness in Charlotte's face faded to a whiteness and she put thin hands up to her cheeks. Her eyes lost no fire though as they glowered at Sara and retreated to her closet.

Robert watched her go then turned his attention back to Sara. And despite all she'd ever been taught about giving a person a chance to prove themselves, Sara hated him on the spot. He imperiously lifted that brow of his again and she had to grab her skirts lest she slap that smug look from his face.

"Well Miss Sara, seems that Charlotte has taken a keen disliking to you."

Smiling tightly, Sara curtsied stiffly and said pertly, "No thanks to you, no doubt."

The resounding slap echoed through the room, Sara had expected it. No one should say anything of the likes to the heir of the house, but she couldn't stop herself from saying the words. Her face remained to the side for a full minute from the force of his hit and when she finally looked up to Robert he was straightening his immaculate black coat and smiling smugly, "It is known that I do not hit any Lady, mere commoners and street people are a entirely different matter though, and I do believe that you fit in that category." He chuckled cruelly, "With the attitude you have, one might think that you were a princess."

Sara didn't correct him, she didn't say anything that may further anger him. A lone tear fought with her will to cast its path down her cheek and won. The past had hurt her greatly, but so did the truth of the matter – she would never be what she had been again. She was not what she had always been taught to believe in. She was a commoner, a servant. A little princess no more.

Robert almost quailed at the sight of that tear trailing down her face. The stunned expression was no doubt from his hitting her, but from something else too. That tear had disturbed him greatly; it was not out of pain or anger or even fear. The look in her eyes he'd only seen by those returning from the war. Indeed, he'd seen it in his own brother's face when he'd returned. She'd lost someone, and that look on her face was one of profound sadness. That nearly broke him.

"I'll have Lady Stonebrook dismiss you in a week to give you time to find other employment." But of course he didn't let it. He was nothing like the man his mother had married, nor even close to what his brother had become.

Sara would have laughed if the situation weren't so serious. She would have been rolling on the floor holding her sides while she gave way to a full laugh. Something she hadn't done in years. She could have done a lot of damage with the words that were teeming in her mind...but as it was, she stood there floored. She had failed yet again and she was going to pay for it dearly. She knew she would die if she had to live on the streets again. The streets. Again.

She looked up, Lottie had a sympathetic look on her face, but it was nothing more. Nothing more. Desolation overwhelmed Sara and she walked numbly from the room, along the long gloomy halls, down the stairs and out the front door.

In her state of mind, she didn't see any of the faces she passed. Many of them were glad to see her go, but of the few that were saddened by the turn of events, was James.


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Robert was making his way down to this library, one of his more favoured rooms in this house. Large and distinctly furbished, it held something that reminded him of another place that he'd often visited as a child with his father. As he passed the hall mirror, he caught in its reflection, his appearance. Shaking his head at his own dishevelment, although it was hardly more than a crooked cravat, he stood before the polished glass to straighten it.

Smoothing his hair back from his face, he nodded and then took a moment to sinfully admire his reflection. It was then that he noticed his brother in the study across from the mirror staring out of the window. The window overlooked the street and the park across.

Spinning on his heal, Robert quietly approached his brother and peeked over his shoulder to see what his brother was so infatuated with outside. There were many beautiful women walking about in the park, and just as many smartly dressed gentlemen. But one person stood out, a receding figure of a pleasantly shaped female dressed in a dress not at all fashionable. It could only be one person.

"Infatuated with her?"

James jumped as if a bullet had whizzed by his head by mere inches. When he faced his brother, his eyes were a cold study of pain and grief, but that was all quickly hidden under layers of false boredom. "Who?"

"That one," Robert pointed to where Sara's figure was disappearing around the block. "Sara Crewe. The little street girl."

James lifted a brow and leaned his muscular frame against the window frame, "Street girl? Don't you mean Lottie's tutor?"

Robert's lips twitched, "Ex-tutor. And she never actually made it to the point of teaching Charlotte. And why do you insist on calling her that ridiculous name?"

"Couldn't you have given her a chance? To prove herself? Or at least given her some time to find another position?" Blithely ignoring Robert's question.

"Don't tell me you have feelings for the little wench. Charlotte discovered some disgusting little fact about Sara and dismissed her. I gave her a week to find another position, but she obviously left." Robert walked over to his father's desk and opened the box set upon it, pulling out a cigar, he cut the end of it off. Waving it at James, he silently asked if James wanted one.

At James' shake of head he pulled out a sulfur stick and struck it against the rough board designed for that purpose only. "Apparently the girl was pregnant." He stuck the cigar into his mouth and held the match stick to the end of it, puffing it slightly to have it catch. Taking a deep drag, he added, "Ran away from her prior position with some boy from the slums, no doubt."

James snorted and stood, anger flicking in his eyes as he approached Robert, "That idea was no doubt put into our dear sister's head by none other than yourself. And you know as well as I that Sara is no girl. And further more, no one would stay here a moment longer even if they were given the choice because you're here."

"She could be back, James. Her stuff is still here."

James spun and took Robert's lapels into his fists and shoved his stunned brother against the wall, "You pompous idiot. Do you really think a girl living on the streets for as long as her will have any belongings that Ms. Jenkins wouldn't have burned?" He stared into Robert's pale face and slowly released him, allowing him to have his feet firmly on the floor once more.

Robert regained his composure quickly enough and he sneered, "Don't threaten me James. The girl is all yours, by all means, take the little slut. No doubt she's given herself away just to feed herself. She's -"

James didn't wait to hear more, instead he slammed his fist into Robert's jaw and watched as his body slid to the floor into an unconscious heap. "Damn, if I haven't wanted to do that forever!"

Sara looked wildly about her. This was an unfamiliar part of London. She'd never been even close to this section of the city, it consisted of family's so rich that they owned houses and mansions larger than Miss Minchin's school. How could anyone afford such luxuries?

She quieted down and remembered how she had lived in such splendor once so long ago. She and her papa. Papa. More tears of self pity streamed down her burning cheeks. At the concerned glances she received from the passersby's, she quickly dashed them and scolded herself for such thoughts. She was still better off than most of these rich snobs anyways, look what had happened to Lottie! Once a sweet girl and now corrupted by the money was available to her.

She blinked and straightened her back, unknowingly earning appreciative glances cast her way. Although she would not deem herself a beauty, she was indeed just that, although she would be absolutely stunning if she had more flesh on her bones, right now she was just far too thin.

"Hey you!"

Sara stiffened at the voice. The person could have been addressing anyone, but the voice still sent chills down her spine. She paused to tilt her head to see if the call came again. In the midst of all the hustle and bustle of street activity, it was hard to tell which direction the call had come from and whether it was for her at all.

Again it came, "Hold up there, sweety."

Well, she certainly hadn't moved since the first call and decided that it was indeed meant for someone else and continued on her way. Pushing through the crowds inspecting vendor's wares, she stubbornly kept to her path; only wanting to get away from the pressing masses.

"For God's sakes, Miss, could you not hold up for a minute?"

Sara stopped in her tracks and slowly turned to see the caller approaching her.

"I thought it was you. Could hardly tell, though with you all dressed up nice."

Sara frowned and bit her lip uncertainly, "Do I know you?"

The man had the decency to flush brightly. Well, perhaps not a man, a boy just out of puberty and still awkward with his new strength and size. He couldn't be much older than Sara herself. "I probably shouldn't dredge the past up, but I felt so bad about what happened that when I saw you" He trailed off helplessly and shrugged uncomfortably, "Well I couldn't just let you walk by without apologizing."

Eyes widening with shock, then fear, Sara back away a few steps. Gasping out, "You'reâyou're the one. The one who attacked me!" She shook her head and backed away further when he started to follow her.

The boy glanced around fearfully, worried if people would see this confrontation, "If I'd have known that you were one of the class, I would never have touched you!"

Anger sparked in Sara, but it was heavily accented with fear, "So you would attack a homeless person because they are a nobody?! Is that it?"

"No, I just meant that in my drunken state, I would never hurt a Lady."

"But you'd hurt a woman of the street? Is that ok for you?"

He reached pleadingly to her, but she slapped his hands away and he let them fall to his sides limply. His head hung and he took a calming breath, "Ever since that confrontation with Lord Stonebrook, I've sworn off drinking. I'm telling you this so you know that I will never harm a woman again no matter their livelihood. Lord Stonebrook is a great man to do such a thing, not many are like him and I've also decided to follow in his footsteps. I'm opening up a shelter that will offer meals to the homeless."

When he lifted his head, Sara noted the unspilled tears in the boy's eyes – she could see how deeply he'd been affected by his behaviour. Slowly, she reached out to take one of his large hands in her own. Giving it a comforting squeeze, she said, "I don't think I will ever completely forgive you, considering you put yourself into that position all yourself and perhaps with a little aid from your friends. But you should know better than to ever attack anyone who is helpless.

It has been yet a week sinceâsince that incident, but the choices you've made, whether they stick or not, are much appreciated. It is the thought that counts. If you can truly stick with this, then you will be a great man indeed. Not just to those of your own class, but everyone else in the city as well.

But do not give false hopes to those who have little. Do not do anything you are uncertain you can achieve." She smiled up at him, no longer afraid of what he had done, but pleased of the change she could see in his eyes. Determination was there, too.

Raising her hand to his lips, he softly kissed the back of it. "You are a great Lady. I am terribly sorry for what I have done to you when you are so obviously a beautiful person both inside and out."

Suddenly shy with the compliment, Sara tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and laughed, "I am no Lady, but you do compliment me greatly. Thank you."

He smiled back at her and bowed gallantly over her hand, "You will always be an angel in my eyes, for who else could have the heart to forgive me my wicked deeds. Thank you." He looked up from his lower position and kissed her hand again, "Until we meet again, angel."

James stood stock still as he watched the scene play out before him. Sara in the company of a renowned whoremonger. Christian was not a man to be trusted with no woman. Young as he was, he was a terror to mothers with daughters of marriageable age. As he watched the young man bend over and kiss Sara's hand, he felt the blood boil. How dare he take such liberties with an innocent maid like Sara.

Or perhaps she wasn't so innocent.

Again, Christian bent over Sara's hand and kissed it, then flourishing his cape elegantly, he sauntered off down the street. Sara watched him go then released her breath. James could see that from where he stood, her shoulders slumped in exhaustion and she rubbed her arms as if she were cold.

Clenching his jaw, James decided without much thought to confront Sara.

She was still watching Christian.

Damn him to hell!

"Sara, you shouldn't be out here. There are dangerous man about and it's freezing. You should be in bed! For the love of God, you've been through a rough ordeal, what are you thinking being out here?" he admonished her. Almost dazedly, she turned to face him.

"Master James?" Her eyes unfocused then focused again. She squinted and peered up into his handsome face, "That is you, isn't it Master James?" She didn't seem at all surprised to see him.

"Of course it is, who were you expecting? Your lover?"

She giggled and swayed a little. Her face was getting redder too, "I don't have a lover." She opened her mouth to say more, but she promptly forgot and instead reached for James.

James frowned and narrowed his eyes, if he didn't know better, she looked like she was ready to faint. Tipsy and fevered looking. She was not strong enough to be out here in the cold. Taking her reaching hand he began rubbing some heat back into her cold digits.

"James, you have very nice eyes."

Tipsy, fevered and definitely delusional, James mentally corrected.

"And you are a very good looking man," she added.

Rather sarcastically, James said, "Sara, flattered as I am, you should probably stop saying anything that you'll regret." A thoughtful look flitted across his features, "Then again, say all you want. You probably won't remember anything later on." Tucking her hand in the crook of his large arm, he led her back to his house.

"I don't feel so good."

"No, you look quite ill. I don't know what Helen was thinking about making you work so soon after you've recovered." A concerned glance her way, "And even then you aren't completely better yet."

She giggled again then sobered as she stumbled along side him.

James slid his arm around her wait and was pleased to find she wore no corset or girdle. When he prevented her from falling, she looked up at him. Her eyes completely dilated, roaming blindly over his face. Her face was no longer red as she studied him, then a whisper passed her perfect lips, "Papa? You came back."

James stared into Sara's clear eyes, mesmerized by the loneliness and anguish he saw there. He had the sudden urge to protect her, not just her body, but her heart as well. She stumbled again and broke the moment, but her sudden dead weight on his arms pushed the thought to the back of his memory. She had fainted.


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

Smooth sheets covered Sara's body and she stretched languorously beneath them. She could have sworn that she'd been in this predicament not three days ago. But hadn't she left? She couldn't remember. _Perhaps it'd been a dream. _That put a smile to her lips, _a lovely dream, _she thought, as her mind wandered back to the handsome face that had appeared before her.

"Sara?"

She almost shivered at the way that voice slid over her. So deep, it made her feel so safe for some reason, she couldn't fathom why. It was a strong voice, even in its softest tones.

"Papa," she sighed, the arms of sleep threatening to take her once more, but she fought them off, eager to see her father.

"No, Sara."

She giggled, feeling a little light headed, "No what, Papa?"

A hand touched her brow briefly, then, "Open your eyes, Sara."

She did and jerked back away from the man sitting beside her on the wide bed. "Master James!" she shrieked and pulled the covers to her chin. Her cheeks burned with mortification, she tried to cover it by appearing angry, but she was just too shocked to have a man seated by her side when she was dressed in…what _was _she wearing?"

James held his hand out to calm her, when the terror didn't abate from her eyes, he realized that for him to gain her trust, the best he could do was to leave her until she considered herself decently dressed. Averting his eyes, although he desperately wanted to study the fire in her eyes and the tremble to her lips, he said gently, "There are some dresses in the wardrobe. I'll wait downstairs for you."

Then he left. Sara watched as he padded across the carpeted floor and shut the door behind him and like that, she was alone to study her surroundings. Of course she didn't, she had to see what she had on. Flipping back the coverlet, she felt a scream burble to her lips and she didn't feel an ounce of shame of letting it loose. She was naked. Naked as the day she'd been born.

-

James had hardly made it down the flight of stairs when that scream came. Earlier than he would have expected to say the least and he pulled out his pocket watch. Yes, there it was. Four minutes before he'd thought she'd scream.

Of course it hadn't been him who had undressed her, his housekeeper had done the job. She'd been feverish and his house keeper had insisted on stripping Sara down for a cool wash down to get her temperature down. Dorris was as old as they came for housekeepers, but she had the vitality of someone much younger, much to her credit.

She was the keeper of this house, or really an apartment. Luxuriously furbished and filled with decadent objects he'd bought when he'd returned from the war. This was a house he kept for one sole purpose. His mistress…when he had one.

He smiled and continued on down the stairs. He wondered how fast Sara would be able to get dressed. Deciding on waiting in the kitchen where he knew Dorris to be, he allowed his feet to carry him to the room where delicious aromas were drifting out.

Seating himself at what would normally be the servants table, he rested his chin on his hands as he watched Dorris prepare the meal. A door slammed upstairs and Dorris cast him a curious look. "You didn't tell the poor girl why she was naked, James?"

The familiarity between them would normally offend many people of the peerage, but James was different. "And miss out on watching her eyes flash? Of course not!"

Dorris waved her spoon at him reproachfully, "You shouldn't upset her like that so soon after her illness." She stuck the spoon back into the pot and stirred vigorously when it began to bubble.

"It's been five days. Can you imagine? No man in the army would be allowed that much time to recover."

"James, you may be a man of the world with all your twenty three years under your belt. You are handsome as hell and yet you seem to know nothing about women. You'd think that a man of your looks would have the ladies falling at your feet!"

James grimaced playfully, "Ug, I couldn't imagine anything worse. I'd have to walk so carefully lest I step on one of them."

A shrill cry came from the stairs, "Where is he?"

"I believe that's your cue." Dorris murmured, greatly enjoying the fact that this woman seemed more special than all the others he'd brought here before, few as that was. She peeked over her shoulder to where James was grinning like a school boy who'd just dipped a girl's hair in an ink well.

"I believe you're right, Dorris." He stood and walked to the kitchen doorway and shouted up to the rafters, "If you're looking for Master James, I believe he's in the kitchen, Miss Sara!"

Stomping followed this and Dorris held her breath as the footsteps came closer to the kitchen. A few times they paused as if not certain where to go, but obviously Sara's nose was in fine condition for it took very little time for her to find the room.

She didn't waste any time in getting to the point, marching across the room Sara waved a fist under James' nose, "How dare you? You had no right to!"

Her meal forgotten for the moment, Dorris watched the two of them with interest, it wasn't everyday that a woman of her class got to watch the proceedings of an argument between people of James' class.

James put on his blandest face possible and answered haughtily, "And what are you referring to Miss Sara? Could it possibly be for taking you off the street? Or perhaps it's because you found yourself in an unfamiliar abode? But I really don't know, those things don't sound nearly as horrible as you seem to think." He clenched his teeth tightly lest he give in to the urge to laugh.

Sara's eyes really did flash, turning from a gray to lavender when she was angry like this. It took James' breath away. "You know very well what I'm referring to, Mister Stonebrook."

Lifting a brow casually in question, James replied, "Really? Perhaps Dorris here would know what you're talking about, for I can assure you that I still haven't any answer." He looked towards Dorris who had quickly turned back to stirring her pots.

Eyes widening with embarrassment, Sara felt her the heat rising to her cheeks and she waved a hand before her face in a flustered manner, very much aware of the scene she'd just made. "Oh! Miss Dorris, please forgive me. I had no idea you were here." Even her voice was shriller than usual.

Dorris took pity on her and smiled gently, "You can call me Dorris. And as for this young rascal," she nodded towards James who was in the action of filching a cookie from a jar, "he's the one who should be doing any apologizing, embarrassing you like that and all. You were feverish so I took the liberty of taking your clothes and bathing you. I wouldn't let this pup do anything like that."

Sara turned an accusing glare to James. She was too angry for words now and she silently shook her head, opening her mouth and closing it several times before she finally managed to get out, "You're impossible!"

"That he is, Miss, that he is." Dorris waved her ladle at James once again and chastised, "You best be getting your hide out of here now if you want to keep it intact. I'd say the little lady has a lot vent…stuff only a lady would understand. So off you get."

James held up his hands in a peace gesture and backed out the door, his eyes all the while roaming over Sara's face and body making her flush all the more. To hide her confusion, she took a threatening step forward and raised a small fist, to her annoyance, he just laughed and closed the door.

"Now deary, have a seat. I have a nice hot pot of tea here if you would like some."

Gathering her skirts, she sat herself down on a wooden chair at the table and watched as Dorris bustled around the kitchen grabbing teacups and napkins from various cupboards.

"Where's Ms. Jenkins?"

Dorris stopped her rummaging to look over her frail shoulder at Sara, "Who?"

"Ms. Jenkins. Is she here?"

Sara looked on in surprise as Dorris dropped the fine teacup. Jumping from her seat to help the old woman clean up the broken pieces, Dorris finally stuttered, "You've met Ms. Jenkins?"

"Of course. I was to work there."

"Work there?" Another piece of china fell from Dorris' hands and Sara began to think that she was getting too old for work.

"Yes."

Grabbing both of Sara's hands from touching another piece of the shards littering the floor, Dorris stared into her eyes and said sincerely in a shaken voice, "Oh, good Lord – you were the Lady who was to teach Miss Charlotte. I had no idea. I just thought that you were the Masters newest mistress. He hasn't had one for months and the staff and me were just so happy that he was taking interest in a lady again since he'd been so drawn since his return from the war. I should have guessed!"

"His mistress? You mean, this isn't Stonebrook Place?" colour draining from Sara's face.

"Good heavens no. This is where he keeps his…his…well, his lady friends." Dorris blushed to the roots of her white head of hair and deftly turned to scooping up the broken teacup. When she stood, she curtsied to Sara then asked meekly, "Will you be wanting some tea or cakes up in your room, my lady?"

Studying the cook, Sara could only nod. Dorris was positively frightened now that she had realized that she'd insulted a lady of the peers. "But Dorris, I've never been part of those circles, I was too young…there were some family issues that prevented me…" she petered off, aware that Dorris was too flustered to hear a word that Sara said.

As Sara walked desolately to the staircase, Dorris called, "Feel free to explore this place. It's not much, but it's more than big enough to find some entertainment of some sort. The library is extensive. I'm afraid none of Master James' staff has ventured to the attic – that hasn't been touched since the previous owners." She was babbling and Dorris knew it. Stopping abruptly, she coughed once then turned back to the kitchen.

Sara watched the elderly woman step away from sight then sighed. What was she doing here? It was entirely improper for her to stay a moment longer, not that anyone would care. No one of stature knew her well enough to care. Besides, she had no where to go. Staring at the three flights of stairs that made their way to the top, Sara decided to go to a place of great familiarity, dark as the memories of it were. She went to the attic.

-

Pushing open the door that led to a narrow set of stairs, Sara brushed aside cobwebs as she ascended the rickety steps. They creaked and groaned for every step she took; one certainly couldn't do any sneaking around here without being noticed.

Other than the dust and cobwebs, Sara surmised that the place was relatively tidy. A lone window at the end of the peaked roof let in the afternoon light, brightening the place immensely. Wandering through the long forgotten trunks, Sara knelt down beside one and threw the lid back with a grunt of effort. When the dust had settled, Sara gasped at the sight of the angelic face peering up at her. A doll. A whole trunk full of them, in truth. But this one, the first one to have caught her eye. It reminded her so much of Emily.

Carefully pulling the doll out Sara held her at arms length to study her. No, not Emily, but definitely just as intelligent looking. "You look like an Abby to me," Sara reflected to herself. Gathering the doll close to her heart she rocked much as she would a baby. "Papa? Can you hear me? I'm sorry I left Emily behind. I'm sorry." She could feel the tears building up and didn't try to stop them – no one was around to see her so vulnerable.

"I'm so lost Papa, I don't know what to do." She sniffled and weakly wiped away the amassing tears, then added quietly, "I miss you, Papa." And pressing her face to the doll's lacy dress, she spilled her tears in heart wrenching sobs, muffled that no one would hear.


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Before the day's light could even penetrate the dense fog, Lord Gabriel Stonebrook was stepping from the black lacquered carriage. Cloak billowing out behind him grandly, he ascended the stairs to the entrance of Stonebrook Place where he was greeted stoically by his butler.

"Ah, Peterson. Where is James? I was expecting him." Tossing him his hat he pulled his gloves off and added them to the cloak and hat that Peterson was holding.

"It would seem that Master James hasn't been seen for a week or so. Disappeared a few days after you left yourself, my Lord. And if you don't mind my adding, it would seem he left the day that Miss Crewe left."

"Miss Crewe?"

"The street girl," Peterson offered.

"Ah yes." He rubbed his hands together to gain some warmth in them. "She left did she? Well, I hope her stay here did her some good. She was so sickly looking." He shook his head sadly, "If it weren't so against propriety, I'd open up a house that served food and shelter to the homeless. But if people attached my name to the project I'd lose my clients…for who wants to put money into a system that raises those below them."

Sighing sadly, Gabriel shook his head and morosely headed down the grand hall to his study where he would relax for some hours before his wife and family arose.

Peterson stared after his employer, a great deal of fondness and gratitude in his eyes.

A thought occurred to Lord Stonebrook and he suddenly looked over his shoulder towards Peterson. He caught the look in his butler's eyes and smiled, "You're welcome, old friend." He paused then added, "Please tell James that I'd like to speak to him when he returns."

His face going ruddy, Peterson nodded and let the mask of indifference fall back into place. Internally he was glowing, though, Lord Stonebrook's words warming him deeply.

-

James looked over the plate piled high with fried eggs, ham and kippers. Picking up his fork, he dug into his breakfast with gusto. They were good, but not as good as Dorris' cooking. He didn't dare eat there, however, not since he'd walked into Sara's room while she'd been bathing. The slight glimpse he'd got of her satiny shoulder had left him feeling bewildered to say the least. He couldn't understand why she affected him so strongly – no other ever had.

Sipping on the black coffee to wash down a mouthful of food he mentally shook himself to the present. It didn't do him any good to wallow on thoughts of Sara.

"James? Is that you, James?"

Looking up from the paper set beside his plate, James searched for the speaker. "Mr. Carrisford." He couldn't quite keep the hostility from his voice. After all, he couldn't appear too friendly with a man who was interested in Lottie.

Oblivious to the iciness in his voice, Michael pulled a chair up to James' table and called a waiter over. "I'll have whatever James has here."

"Mr. Carrisford, you're disturbing my breakfast."

Jollily, Michael waved away James' protests, "Oh nonsense. Ignore me if you must, but really, James, at least have the decency to call me Michael." He did remain silent for the remainder of time until he had his own plate of eggs placed before him.

"What do you want…Michael?"

Finally, Mr. Carrisford's face broke and the miserable interior shone through. "It's your brother. He doesn't think I'm suitable to court your step sister. Every time I come calling, he slams the door in my face. We Carrisfords may not be of old money like your family…I mean, you still have titles! But we do have a small fortune under our name and honestly made too, although father won't let me touch a crown of a rather large section of it, I've seen the bank statements. But your brother! I mean, I know he's a surly sort of fellow, but I didn't realize how bad he was until Lord Stonebrook or yourself isn't there!"

James raised a brow, "What does this have to do with me? You're a grown man, surely you don't need me." He shrugged eloquently to say in action that he could do nothing then wiped his mouth on his serviette and made to rise. Michael ceased his movement and grabbed James' hand beseechingly. Staring down at the white but strong hand of Michael, James added, "But since it is obvious that you won't get off my back I'll see what I can do."

Michael let go and visibly relaxed in his seat. His grin returned and he motioned for James to sit down once more. And surprisingly, James complied.

Pushing aside his plate, Michael leaned forward and said exuberantly, "Ok. I've told you my intentions with my lady interest. What about yours?"

James' frown returned. He hardly knew this man. "I haven't yet seen how noble your intentions with Lottie are. For all I know, you could be dirt poor and could be a fortune hunter."

Laying a hand over his heart, Michael vowed sincerely, "I will do everything that I can to make Charlotte happy and if she accepts, I will wed her. How's that? Now back to you. What of you and the lady you're keeping in your house? Word has it she's no scullery maid, but a lady of class."

His frown deepening, James huffed and looked away. "This is none of your concern. And besides, you can't believe everything that you hear….who told you that there was a woman at my town house?"

Michael grinned and leaned back once more. "Have to keep my sources secret otherwise they'll have my neck."

"Yes, well, it'll be me at your neck if you don't tell me," James threatened.

"Come off, I was only jesting. You can go at your brother's neck for it was him who told me...among others"

"Robert? Damn the man!" James got up in earnest this time and waved to the waiter for his bill. "Ok, I'll talk to Robert, but don't ever take it into your head that I'm doing this for you. This is entirely for me and the lady in question." Then to himself he muttered, "I won't have him besmirching Sara's name in public."

Michael nodded gravely, but there was a merry twinkle in his eye that James was too preoccupied to take note of. He was also too enraged to think things through, for obviously if Michael had gotten that bit of information from Robert, then the two had contact.

-

"James! Goodness, where have you been?" Charlotte launched herself into James' arms and sobbed dramatically on his shoulder. Clutching at the lapels of his dress coat she blubbered away softly.

"Shush Lottie. You know I have my own living quarters, there's no need for me to be here all the time, you know that." He gently pried her clinging fingers from his clothing and set her aside. Grimacing at her spilling tears he stepped around her and pushed through the large oak doors.

"It's not like you all thought I was dead, Lottie."

Sniffling, Lottie shrugged and wiped the last of the evidence away from her cheeks. "I suppose so," she answered slowly, "but we were concerned. Father especially. He was expecting you to be here to greet him home."

James spun around on his heel, "Lord Stonebrook is here now?"

"Yes. He got back just this morning. Robert said that you were out doing inappropriate gentleman things." Her eyes glittered mischievously. "What did he mean by that? Father turned a bright red when he heard that."

Blushing himself, James turned away and muttered, "Nothing. And where is my brother? Someone should correct him before he spreads horrible lies about."

Nodding at the room that James had partially entered, Lottie replied brightly, "He's in there with father. They're discussing business. Father told me to tell you to report to him as soon as you were seen."

James rolled his eyes and pushed the door open further. The interior was dark, the curtains shut. "Robert? Lord Stonebrook?" He knocked tentatively on the door before shutting it fully behind him. It didn't appear as if anyone were in here…that is, until he went in further and saw that both his step father and brother were deep in discussion by the fireside. The glow of the flames reflected eerily off the planes of their faces.

"You were looking for me?"

Lord Stonebrook stood and shook a reproaching finger at James. "I've heard some horrible things, James. First of all, letting that poor girl out onto the streets and then going after her and then disappearing for a week. I've had my men check on your town house and although your housekeeper denied you being there, you were undoubtedly there." He shoved his hands into his pockets and waited for James to answer.

Glaring at his brother, James didn't know how to respond. Ignoring Lord Gabriel Stonebrook he glared at his brother. "I'm rather curious to find out where you heard these rumours. After all, as you well know, Robert doesn't get out much himself."

Robert gained his feet and looked his brother in the eye. They may have been of similar height with Robert slightly taller, but James was obviously the stronger of the two. The breadth of his shoulders pulling at the seams of his clothes…clothes that he refused to have altered. After being in the war, any clothing that fit even remotely close was good enough for him.

"What are you implying James?"

"You know very well."

"I know you have Sara at your town house. And yet, you haven't slept at the house at all during her stay there – you've been staying at the Rutherford Hotel." Lifting a dark brow, Robert grinned sardonically, "She's more than a little bed sport isn't she?"

James couldn't deny it, but he'd be damned if he admitted such a thing in front of his brother. Growling, he lunged at Robert only to be stopped by a strong hold on his shoulder.

Gabriel laughed heartily at the angry look James cast his way. "How could I have missed it? You honestly have feelings for the girl, don't you?"

Robert frowned and sneered with contempt, "You can't be thinking of letting him get serious with her. She's been living on the streets for god only knows how long. You don't know where she's been or who she's been with. Jesus, I don't even want to go there!"

Lighting up a cigar, Robert paced the room leaving a trail of smoke in his wake. "That's just disgusting, James."

Smiling politely to Gabriel, James then let his fist fly. At this point, it was the only response suitable to Robert's idiocy. Robert fell silently to the couch and lay there limp. Rubbing his hand, James chuckled, "That's the second time I've hit him this month and every time it's been to do with Sara."

Gabriel swallowed back his shock then smiled softly. He knew the feeling of finding first love…especially after war had taken everything he'd thought to have loved. "Well, I look forward to meeting this Miss Crewe. If she's worth hurting your brother, than she can't be all that bad."

"He goes down pretty easy. I'd say she's worth a hundred of the strongest men you know. For that's how she is to me. She's a well of strength; and like Robert said, God only knows what she's been through." Remorse hit James and he propped Robert up into a sitting position using the couch cushions.

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Gabriel said, "Bring her to this Sunday's evening meal. Michael Carrisford will be there. The scoundrel has been here everyday this week and apparently last week as well. He has a real strong thing going for Charlotte."

"You mean Robert hasn't been refusing Michael's visits with Lottie?"

"Forbidding a relationship between the two? Good heavens no. He's all for it. Happy for Charlotte he is." He turned a concerned eye to Robert as he began to come around. "He sincerely approves of Michael. And I don't see why he should considering they've become fast friends. Ever since you left for war the two of them have been seen together every other day."

"What?"

"Michael and Robert have known each other for quite a few years now. Robert was the one who introduced Michael to Charlotte in the first place." Gabriel went to the side board and poured a large brandy. Noting James' shocked face, he asked, "What is wrong?"

"Nothing, but Robert is testing me and Sara quite thoroughly."

Lord Stonebrook chuckled and brought the glass of brandy over and held it out to Robert who dazedly took it. "It's pretty obvious to anyone who looks that you're smitten with the girl."

"You're daft. I just met her."

Robert coughed on the brandy and cleared his throat, "Daft we both may be, but you've never acted such with another woman."

James ignored his brother's comment and shouted, "You hit her!"

"So? She was being rude and I thought she was a servant."

"So you hit any woman who's below you and is rude to you? Likely you were just as rude to her."

Robert shrugged eloquently, "I must admit, she brings out the worst in me. But I apologize for hitting her nonetheless. It was entirely inappropriate."

"Say that to her face."

"Will do."

"And why the hell did Michael confront me today saying that you were refusing to let him see Lottie?" James was pacing now. His long legs carried him back and forth across the room.

Holding a bag of ice to his temple, Robert blinked a few times to clear his vision and for a moment a sharp look came to his eye giving him a mirthful air, but it just as soon vanished. "I don't know anything about that. What did he say?"

"That you didn't approve…among other things."

"Hmm…What do you think Lord Stonebrook?" Robert's glance went cross eyed momentarily and he frowned at the two identical faces he saw there, "Lord Stonebrook's?"

Gabriel cast a pitying fleeting look at Robert then turned to the darkened corner of the room. "I'm sure you're just choking yourself over there, Michael, so you might as well come on out."

Michael's red face appeared from the shadows and he coughed quite loudly before his colour returned to normal. A wide grin split his face, white teeth gleaming in the dim light. "Why James! So good to see you…again!"

At first, James could feel his blood pressure rising, his temples throbbed and he could see a red haze, but after some thought he couldn't help but chuckle softly. "You bastards! You want me to set up with her!"

"We don't care what you do, with or without her, James. We just want you happy. It's been some time since a smile has graced your face. Too long have the shadows of war darkened you. It's hurt us all, but life goes on, James." Gabriel sighed and shook his head sadly. "I know what you've been through. I, myself, have lost many to war. Three of my brothers went, lost them all. I would have joined them and fought by their sides, but I was forbid to go as I was heir."

James searched Robert's face and only now saw the pain and fear that his brother had hid so well – a fear that he'd never see his younger brother again. "I'm sorry, Robert."

Averting his eyes, Robert could only nod stiffly, but after a pregnant pause, he muttered softly, "You're my brother, James. Be happy."

"I'll bring her then…this Sunday."

Michael stepped forward and pushed Robert back into a sitting position, "Excellent. This will be quite the get together, my father will also be attending. He's pushing for an engagement for me and Charlotte," he grinned widely at this, then continued, "He's ill at the moment and it looks like he won't be among the living for much longer – he'd see me bound to a wife before he goes, as he puts it."

It was obvious to all present that although Michael was ecstatic at the prospect of marrying Charlotte, and it wasn't a doubt that he would marry her, he was being torn apart that his father was losing his mind. "Yes, he keeps asking for a Captain. For the life of me, I can't ever remember the name, nor does my father it seems for he has only mentioned the name once. He does say repeatedly that he needs to see his friend to repay him." Raising his eyes, he noted the saddened faces and he forced a laugh to his lips, "I'm sorry, shouldn't have said that."

Robert got unsteadily to his feet and exclaimed rather loudly, "Help me upstairs, James. I'm seeing two of you right now and one of you is plenty enough as it is." It broke the tension up nicely.

-

"Dorris?" Sara sat in the kitchen and looked out the picture window into the garden out back. Her delicate face was propped up on her hands and a bored look was plastered to it. "When will James be back?"

Rolling a lump of dough into an even thickness, Dorris paused and pushed a few tendrils of hair out of her eyes. "I couldn't say, Sara."

Sara had finally convinced the woman to call her by her first name. But it looked like it would be some time before the woman allowed Sara to help with anything, which only added to Sara's boredom. She wanted to do something…anything.

Stormy eyes turned back to the garden and the life that was beginning to spring from the ground. Spring was finally here. She could remember when she had wanted it to be spring so badly just so she could have water to wash herself. Now she had all the water she could ever want…and hot water too! Shaking herself out of her reverie, she realized how much she needed to do something.

"Dorris, are they cloaks I could use? I'd like to go for a walk."

"A walk? Master James said the only walking you'll be doing is inside the house, or out in the garden. And if'n you're going out in the garden, I'm to be by your side the whole time." She took a cutter from a drawer and emphasized her words with every cut she made, "You're…not…to…be…alone…outside."

"Of all things!" Sara huffed, stood and paced a little before feigning tiredness. "I think I'll go and lay down for a while, Dorris."

"That's a good idea, my Lady."

"Sara," Sara corrected automatically.

"Sara," Dorris conceded.

-

Upstairs, Sara immediately set to work pulling the curtain's drawstrings out. They were made of heavy silk cording, and although Sara wasn't particularly heavy, she had her doubts that they'd be strong enough to hold her weight. She shrugged, "The worst that will happen is that I fall into the bushes below."

Tying it around the heavy post of her bed, she tugged it to ensure the security of it. It held fast. Smiling smugly to herself, she swept her skirts up and tucked them into the waistband. "Thinks he can lock me up here, does he? I'll show him!"


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

**A/N: I apologize for how long it has taken me to get this out…and I'll be honest with you, I have been floundering. I was stuck as to where I was going to go. Hopefully, I have a better idea of what I'm doing now! And just so you know, I started this chapter many times over the past five months or so. Thanks to all who are reading! Also, please, PLEASE leave a review if you read this! It's nice to know if people are enjoying this and what their thoughts on it are.  
**

Sara gripped the heavy cord in her hands and took a deep breath and looked out the window once more. These things always seemed so much easier in the adventure novels. She lifted her leg over the window sill and tapped her booted foot around until she found a ledge to rest her weight on.

Again she peered out, but her skirts, tucked in as they were, still puffed out about her preventing her from seeing her own feet. She was going to half to climb down by touch alone. She gritted her teeth. This was _definitely_ easier in the novels.

Tugging uncertainly on the cord, she put her full weight on the foot on the sill and swung her other leg over to join the other. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, she was officially outside the house now. It was just a question of whether or not she could get to the ground. She didn't know where she'd go once she was gone. She just wanted to prove to herself…and James, that she didn't need anyone's help. _Don't be so daft, girl _a voice in her head scoffed, _you have no where to go. _

Sara's shoulders straightened. That may be the case, but she had to get out of the house. She'd come back. Of that there was no question, and the little voice smirked, _you'll come back not because of the roof over your head and the food in your belly, but for James_.

She snorted with disdain at the thoughts spinning around her mind and finally admitted to that little voice that she just _liked_ James, but it was nothing more.

-

James swung himself out of his carriage and spared a glance at his townhouse as he turned to give his driver directions for later. He never got a word to his driver. He knew what he was watching, but couldn't quite believe the scene being played out before him. It seemed highly unlikely that the woman climbing out of the second floor window was Sara. In fact, sense was telling him that the sickly Sara shouldn't even be out of bed. And was the woman daft? She was creating a scandal just having her skirts hitched up revealing her legs…nicely shaped legs, he couldn't help but notice.

He blinked and finally moved when his driver gasped in indignation. Apparently he'd just turned to see what his master was gawking at. "Master James? Will you be leaving again?"

James frowned and tore his gaze away from Sara, "What? Definitely not. Can't you see there's a woman in distress?" He winked roguishly at his driver and spun away on his heel. He couldn't decide whether or not to meet her on the ground or haul her back into the house from above. Either way, the watching people passing by would be granted quite the spectacle. And both ways would feed the gossip mill for weeks.

So, pull her back into a bedroom, or stand below her and have a gaze up skirts. He was awful, he chastised his drifting thoughts…for once…and he paused at this, he didn't care what everyone thought and he couldn't explain why.

Sara blindly groped for another foothold. She cursed the dainty boots she wore and wished suddenly that she'd tossed them out the window and climbed down barefoot. At least she'd have been able to feel more. For all the support her 'boots' gave, they were more aptly described as slippers.

And curse herself a fool, she was too weak for this! Her legs were already trembling from the strain of balancing on the narrow ledges. She suddenly wished that this was her window in India that she was climbing out of – she'd done it hundreds of times and was familiar with all the footholds.

She felt herself slipping and grappled madly for the cord but gravity was already pulling her down and the cord slid through her hands. Letting loose a muffled scream, Sara fell a short distance before landing in the pruned bushes below. She bounced on the stiff shrub and rolled off to find herself staring at a shiny pair of boots. She could almost see her reflection in them and what it showed her was a dishevelled mess.

She knew without question to whom those boot belonged to and who was standing in them. "If you were a true gentleman, you'd offer to help me up."

James stared in surprise at the mussed up looking woman before him and he couldn't help the chortle that escaped him. He'd never met anyone like Sara. And this certainly wasn't the miss his father had rescued off the street.

Sara glared balefully up at him and his laughter grew. Huffing indignantly, Sara pushed herself off the ground and modestly spun away to tug the skirts loose so that they once again hung properly. Still facing away from James, Sara attempted to brush the dirt from her dress when James, gently turned her.

Blushing profusely, Sara felt foolish standing before James since it was obvious that he'd witnessed the whole fiasco. She was sure that he was going to chastise her for her silliness. She looked up through her lowered lashes and was surprised at the mirth she saw in his eyes.

"Sara?"

"Yes?"

It was a long time before his answer came, and when it finally did, there was an odd note in his voice that Sara couldn't match with any emotion she was familiar with. He leaned in closer to her till their faces were just mere inches apart. But then he blurted out, "Are you all right? You didn't hurt yourself, did you?" He seemed surprised at the words he spoke.

Raising an imperious brow, Sara huffed indignantly, "I've been in worse scraps and much worse situations."

She felt James stiffen beside her and was aware of how the joyous moment had passed. The mere suggestion to her life on the streets was like a cloud blocking the sun's warmth. Sara hadn't meant for her comment to come out like that, she hadn't been thinking of her time on the streets at all, but of when she was a child in India.

Sara's mind raced madly for something to say to bring back the smile to James' face, but nothing came. Instead, she followed where his gaze was focused and blushed all the more. The people who had been passing the house had all stopped in their tracks, aghast at the spectacle. Many of the women stared at her as if she was nothing better than dirt, although there were a few who had an admiring smile touching their lips. None of them would ever have the courage to do something so outrageous.

James stiffly offered her his arm, Sara accepted it by slipping her own arm around his and ducked her head to hide her pink face.

-

James cradled a snifter of brandy in one hand and a cigar in the other.

"James?"

The man in question raised his head, which seemed to be a considerable feat and stared blearily at his brother. James let his head fall back to rest on the seat back, waving his glass vaguely about, he motioned for his brother to join him.

Robert watched his younger brother for a moment before he stepped into the den and poured himself a drink from the sideboard. He hadn't seen James this bad since he'd come back from the war.

"Why aren't you with Sara?" He at least had managed to keep the contempt out of his voice. He didn't approve of a match between James and a lady of the street – but he'd seen the happiness in James' face while she was near.

James didn't even open his eyes when he asked in a slurred voice, "Who?"

Robert snorted as he seated himself in the large chair set opposite to the one James was in, "The woman in your apartments…surely you haven't forgotten her already?" Robert smiled into his drink and added, "If I'm not mistaken, you're quite taken with the chit."

Shaking his head sluggishly, James denied it. "No ssssuch ting." He thumped his chest with the hand holding his brandy and splashed himself with the strong drink. Dazedly, he looked down at the wet patch on his shirt front. "No lady'll have m'heart. 'Tis mine."

Not bothering to argue the point, Robert's grin merely widened, "Of course." He watched James' clumsy attempts to blot the brandy from his shirt, then added, "So the chit is gone?"

If looks could kill, Robert mused, this one would have pierced his heart and killed him instantly. James glared at Robert and replied, almost soberly, "Sara is no 'chit.' She's a _lady_."

Again, Robert simply answered, "Of course. Does this mean you will be bringing her to the dinner Gabriel's hosting? After all, you did say…" he let it hang in the air. Waiting and wanting to see James' reaction, Robert settled himself further into his seat. But if he was expecting something explosive from James, he was to be disappointed.

James lifted his shoulders in a shrug but did not answer, which was just as well considering how inebriated he was.

But Robert saw the look in his brother's eye and it was not of a drunk man, but of one who was afraid of losing himself to someone.

-

Sara stared blindly out the window. Her hands were clenched tightly in her lap and tears streamed down her face. God she was weak. Weak of heart, weak of mind, weak of strength. For the first time in years, she was feeling like her old self…back when Papa was alive…not the way Miss Minchin had moulded her, nor the way street life had left a hollow place within her.

She was living. She was breathing in life and joy, banishing the shadows and sadness that plagued her soul. And yet, here she was…crying her eyes red. Over a man no less! James had released her arm as if she burned him and had stormed off as soon as he'd returned her to Dorris' care. Did she repulse him so much?

She felt like the school girls that had whispered of boys and their undying love for them. Pressing her fisted hands against her eyes, she willed herself to stop, but the attempt only brought on another torrent of tears.

"Sara, you fool…"

She flopped back against the pillows and stared blindly at the canopy. Reaching behind her head, she withdrew the doll she'd taken from the attic. It reminded her so much of Emily, but this was no Emily. This was Abby. She smiled through her tears and ran a loving finger across the cool porcelain cheek of the doll.

It was childish, she knew, to confess her secrets and fears to a doll, but she always felt the better for having told. It was almost as if someone was actually listening and nodding sympathetically.

"I think I'm starting to grow too fond of James, Abby."

The doll smiled serenely back at Sara.

"Maybe 'fond' is too weak a word..."

Still, the doll just smiled and Sara burst into another bout of tears. She needed something to do. She was used to doing something, not being pampered. When her father was alive, she had been coddled, doted upon her father, but she had never been so spoiled as she was now.

Sara swung her legs off the edge of the bed and stared out the window. She could hear hawkers calling out their wares on the streets. Walking over to the large window, she pulled back the lacy curtains and looked down at the streets below.

It was such a different perspective, seeing the streets from above. You could almost miss the little dirty faces hiding between houses and behind crates. James' residence was not in a particularly good part of town, but nor was it in a bad section. Yet the evidence of poverty was still present if one knew where to look. And Sara knew where to look.

A small girl clutched closely to a shawl wrapped around painfully thin shoulders. She wavered on her feet even as she stood on the corner. The girl would look pleadingly at any who passed her by, but they never spared a glance in her direction. It was as if she weren't even there.

Was this what Sara looked like when she had been on the streets? She had wished so many times that someone had just acknowledged her as a human being. Had they done so, they may have taken it to heart that she needed help…of any kind. She hadn't wanted their pity, just their strength to live life.

Without thinking, Sara grabbed a shawl of her own and left her room. Descending down the grand staircase, Sara slipped past the humming Dorris and into the back garden. She knew that a street ran along the back and that a door had been built into the wall. The garden path wound around the small garden space and the large bushes quickly hid Sara from view of the house. As a precaution, she did look around her before she turned the key left in the lock and pulled the door open.

-

Robert had left James in the study to sleep off his drink and had returned a few hours later. James was sprawled on the settee, his jacket half off and one shoe half on. Without any sympathy, Robert slammed the door behind him, well aware that any loud noise would bring a slitting headache to his brother.

James jerked and flung himself to the floor – an old habit from the war. When James realized his folly, he rolled over and glared at Robert. Heaving himself off the floor and plunking his body back on the settee, James shaded his eyes from the light Robert had let in when he opened the curtains.

"What do you want," he grimaced at the furry feeling left in his mouth. He motioned for his brother to bring him a glass of water, which Robert blithely ignored.

"What are your feelings for Sara, James?"

"I'm quite sure I don't know what you mean."

"Oh you know what I mean," there was an edge of steel in his voice that made James study his brother for a moment.

"I don't know," James answered slowly, uncertain where this conversation was going. And quite honestly, that was the truth. He knew for certain that he liked her more than he aught to. It scared the hell out of him, truth to tell, and he didn't know how to deal with it. It was all new to him.

And he was fairly certain that Sara didn't hate him, and he was almost positive that the streets hadn't scarred her so much that she was afraid of a little affection, let alone love. He'd seen the fire of anger in her eye more than once and tasted the fierce and stinging words that had been flung his way. Hell, he'd been through the war and seen many a man die right before his eyes and he wasn't affected! But this…

"I know where your thoughts are going. I don't think she's going to open up soon, she's been through a lot."

James scowled at him, "Yes, and no doubt that attack on her by you was to open her up. You still have to apologize to her, don't you forget that."

Dipping his head, Robert acknowledged this, then continued on, "Sara may show the world a mask of strength, but I think inside, she's just a little girl. A father's little princess."

"Funny, I was just thinking the opposite. Sara's not a princess, she's a queen. She governs her feelings and thoughts with an iron fist, and will not be pulled down by something trivial. She'll fight for what she believes in."

"You know her so well," Robert's words were laced with heavy sarcasm, but it was completely lost on James.

-

Sara approached the girl on the street and gently tapped her on the shoulder. The girl jumped and spun around. Her eyes were downcast and she took a sudden step backward to get out of Sara's way.

The girl clutched a small bundle to her chest and Sara soon realized that it was a tiny babe. The young mother hushed the growing whimpers from the child and rocked it to quiet it down.

Again, Sara reached out and touched the girl on the shoulder and was appalled at the thinness it revealed. Gently, she said, "Come with me."

The girls filthy locks fell before her face as she peered down at the tiny babe in her arms. Finally, she lifted her face and tossed her hair aside. What it revealed took both girls breaths away.

"Becky…"


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

**A/N: I'm very, very sorry. And I'm going to direct a little more of my apology to **beauty0102 **who emailed me a few times asking when the next chapter was coming out. To which I said "sometime this weekend hopefully." Well, that was probably two years ago. So, without further ado, here is what you've all been waiting for with my sincerest apologies for its tardiness.**

**Enjoy!**

**And please leave a review, I love hearing what people think! Also, it gives me incentive to write ;)**

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Sara could almost see what Becky was thinking as her dear friend blinked, then blinked hard once more to see if she was imagining things. The look on Becky's face was almost comical, but then, Sara was sure that the same expression was on her own face.

Becky slowly reached a frail looking hand towards Sara's cheek. Had Sara been a true lady of the peers, she would have been revolted to the core and either would have slapped the offending hand away or reared back. But Sara did neither. She instead welcomed the cool hand upon her cheek, despite the filth, and let her tears flow.

"My god…Miss Sara, we all thought you be dead!"

Through her sobs, Sara reached out and hugged Becky close to her. It had been so long that she'd seen a friend and with it came the sense of once again being connected to the world. A muffled cry came from between the two young women and Becky quickly pulled away. Gently pulling back the tattered blanket, Becky revealed an angelic face of a young baby, albeit an angry one. Sara looked questioningly at Becky, then to the child.

"Minchin let me have the baby at the school, but I had to leave a few days after. She wouldn't have a 'caterwauling' thing in her household." She rocked the baby in her arms and made little hushing sounds that made the baby show a gummy smile.

Sara was in awe, she hadn't seen a baby this close in years, the last being in India where the women weren't embarrassed to be holding a child. In London, women didn't carry a child around unless they couldn't afford a Nanny. Slowly reaching out with a gentle hand, Sara brushed her fingers along the fine silky hair that covered the baby's head. Just the thought of Becky having to raise this child alone on the streets made her throat clog with anguish.

Becky smiled shyly and seemed almost uncertain of the words she spoke next, "I've named her Elizabeth Sara Woodstock… You being the best person I ever did knew; kind, gentle, smart, beautiful…I wanted her to be like you."

Swallowing hard, Sara wiped the tears from her face and a brittle smile split her lips. She whispered a quiet 'thank you' and tentatively stroked the girl's head again.

Becky returned the smile, relieved that Sara wasn't outraged, although a small part of her chastised her for even thinking that Sara would be mad at having a servant's child named after her. "Elizabeth was my mother's name." She looked down into her daughter's face and continued, "I'll be calling her Liz."

"I think she'll be perfect, Becky."

Hope filled Becky's eyes and she leaned forward as if to see the truth in Sara's eyes, "Do you really think so, Miss?"

Turning back to the garden gate, Sara led her dear childhood friend towards it. "I know so."

Becky beamed.

Once within the walls of the garden, Sara carefully locked the garden door and turned to face Becky. Everything seemed so surreal. She could scarcely believe that she wasn't dreaming, so unreal it was that Becky stood before her. "I can't believe you're here."

Laughing, Becky agreed, thinking the whole time that if this was a dream, she'd make it a good one at least by enjoying her time with her old friend. "How did you come to this place, Miss?"

"Sara, please."

Becky shook her head, "You'll always be 'Miss Sara' to me. You're my friend, but you deserve the respect a Lady should receive."

Sara smiled, knowing that this age old argument was futile to continue. It was always the same. She led the way through the garden. Long established plants bloomed and released their heavy perfume into the air, adding to the fantasy. Reaching for a large bloom, Sara plucked it and absently twirled it between her fingers. "I live here now. Or at least until I move on. I was brought here by a gentleman."

A shocked look crossed Becky's features and her gaze flew to study Sara. Her friend didn't seem at all upset, but she could think of no other reason for Sara to be here. "Oh Miss, I had hoped that you hadn't had to resort to that sort of thing. I heard Miss Minchin cut off all hope for you by sending out notices saying that you were unsuitable for any household of the class…" A blush covered Becky and embarrassed, she turned away as her imagination took flight.

Sara burst into laughter, "It's nothing at all what you think it is, Becky. He is a very respectable man, as is his step-father, Lord Stonebrook." She cocked her head to the side and thought a moment, "You may have actually seen Lord Stonebrook before, he's Lottie's father."

Recognition of the man in question lit up Becky's eyes and she nodded exuberantly, "Yes! A kind old chap, if I remember correctly. Though he appeared sad whenever he saw Lottie, must be a lot of her mother in her."

Elizabeth began to fuss in Becky's arms and her cute little face screwed up as she readied herself for a wail. "Oh, is there a quiet place about? Liz is hungry and I have to feed her."

Nodding, Sara led the way back into the house, briefly introducing Dorris to Becky before heading for a quiet lounge room.

-

James strode through the entrance to his house and walked briskly to the salver of letters and invitations he'd received. He flipped through them and tossed most of them back to be dealt with later. He had no patience at the moment, his head was pounding from lack of sleep and all he really wanted to do was go to bed.

Robert had pressed him again into coming to the dinner that weekend with the Carrisford's. James grinned, another such reminder lay on the salver, that one he tucked into his jacket pocket. He had loped up half the stairs to the second floor before he heard it. Two girlish giggles.

He shook his head, positive that he was hearing things. Pausing in his steps, he listened, waiting for it to happen again. He was not to be disappointed. Again two peals of laughter came forth. Sliding his hand down the smooth banister as he descended, James quietly walked towards the private drawing room where he could distinguish Sara's giggles…and someone else's. He was quite certain that Dorris hadn't giggled like that for at least a decade so that ruled her out. So who was Sara entertaining?

He reached for the door handle and rested a hand on it for a moment, deciding whether he should intrude or not. He obviously paused too long for Dorris rasped his knuckles with a ladle and chastised, "I thought you were past eve's droppin', James."

James could feel the heat rise up to his cheeks and he straightened his full six foot two inch frame indignantly. "What are you on about Dorris?"

"The lady's friend, Becky, she's feeding her daughter. With all the experience with the ladies you've had, there's no need for you to go in and see two more. Besides, haven't you heard of knocking?"

"In my own house? I had no idea, Dorris, that Sara was entertaining a guest." Not the complete truth, but he still hadn't known that the guest was feeding her child…and in front of Sara no less! He said this indignantly, but he still couldn't diffuse the heat in his cheeks. This was his home, he could do as he wished!

Dorris smirked but said no more on the matter, instead changing the subject. "I thought I heard you come in. And no hello to me I see."

James watched as she sauntered back to the kitchen, her large body swaying rather smoothly, surprisingly, as if to unheard music. He followed her and stood awkwardly in the door for a moment before letting childhood behaviour kick in and seated himself at the rough kitchen table. "Dorris? Will this Becky be staying for a visit?"

Again, Dorris smirked, "I'd say, indefinitely."

"Who is she?"

Dorris began stirring a large pot, tasted the substance, then added some dried herbs. "I'm not sure if it is my place to say, it's best you ask Sara. Or better yet, Becky. It is safe to say, however, that this Becky has put a new spark in our Sara."

James looked back through the door he'd entered through, in the general direction Sara was and tapped the table with a finger lost in thought. Dorris noted this and turned away with a smile. It was good to have her boy thinking of other things. War was best left at the battlefield no matter how many scars one carried with themselves.

-

Sara smiled and giggled as Becky winced then pulled the babe away from her breast. "No one ever told me it'd hurt this much!" Nonetheless, a look of awe crossed her face as she looked down at the baby in her arms.

"Oh Becky, I wish I'd been there to help you through with everything. I can only imagine how horrid it must've been." She lifted her feet up and rested her chin on her knees, hugging her legs close. Very much a childish action, but she didn't seem to care.

Becky watched Sara under hooded eyes, not at all certain of who this person was. She knew it was Sara, but it had been so long since she'd seen her friend…what had _she_ gone through? She reached over and patted her friend's hand, "It wasn't all that bad." An understatement to be sure, she'd had to have her baby in the basement closet lest she wake any of the girls; a strap of leather between her teeth and an old skirt to muffle her cries. She'd been fortunate that the cook had been so kind and knowing.

Sara sighed again and tucked a loose strand of light brown hair behind her ear. Becky decided she looked rather down despite having everything now. Or at least, everything that Becky could imagine.

"Something wrong, Miss?"

Large grey eyes looked up at Becky then back down to where she was picking at the hem of her dress. Such expressive eyes. Becky cocked her head to the side and studied the girl – no, woman – before her. Something had definitely changed her from the free spirited person she knew before, and it all showed in her eyes.

"I was just wondering…the father…"

"Of Liz? He doesn't know that I'm here..."

"Oh? What's his name?"

Becky's mind whirled. She couldn't give the real name…nor did she want to, she was too ashamed to tell even Sara, her dear friend, the truth. "It's Gregory. He's the footman in the house next to Miss Minchin's." It wasn't the entire truth. But close enough to it, the bastard who'd done this to her was no better than a footman, he was lower! Scum!

"Do you love him?"

"Love? Gregory?" She fell silent. Yes, it was quite possible she did. He had been with her from the beginning or this ordeal. Supporting her when no one else did, it had been him, she'd ended up turning to for a shoulder to cry on when the burden seemed to get too heavy.

Forcing a smile to her lips, Sara's demeanour brightened and she sat back in her seat all proper. "Nevermind. Come, I'll introduce you to Dorris properly, the cook and housekeeper, and then we'll run you a hot bath."

Forgetting what had moments before occupied her thoughts, Becky bounced a little in her chair in anticipation.

Sara rose smoothly from her own seat and threw the doors open into the hall.

-

James startled at the sudden bang. He looked down the hall and glimpsed Sara coming his way, she was looking over her shoulder. His eyes brightened and he went to go greet her, then he caught glimpse of her friend following behind. He backed away.

"I can't be seen here! I'm a Lord!"

Dorris raised her brows in question. "This is your house, you may be as you please. Besides, I'm sure people've seen you in much worse condition and places."

"But what will this girl think? Me consorting in the kitchen?" He looked around, panic stricken. He had never heard of a Lady by the name of Becky. But that was easy to understand as few Ladies ever gave out their real name. Or perhaps 'Becky' was merely a nick name. "And why on earth is Sara bringing her to the kitchen!"

The old cook shrugged, "Likely need something for the babe."

James felt like smacking himself on the forehead. He wanted to make a good impression for Sara's sake. He didn't want her to be embarrassed to introduce him to her friend.

Sara stepped into the room, and Dorris noted with a large amount of amusement, that James noticeably straightened in posture, while at the same time managing to somehow shrink into a corner.

"Whatever it is you're making Dorris, it smells wonderful!"

Cook beamed.

"I apologize, I didn't introduce you fully before." She pulled her friend fully into the room, "This is my dear friend, Becky."

Becky smiled shyly and bobbed her head politely, all the while gently bouncing Liz in her arms. Liz's eyes lit up as she saw the cook and her mouth opened wide in a gummy smile.

Dorris swooped in and scooped Liz out from Becky's arms. Sara and Becky laughed as the babe giggled at the silly faces the old cook made. Becky watched with amusement, then at ease that nothing ill would happen to her child in Dorris's experienced hands, her eyes wandered around the room and fell on the sharply dressed man standing in the shadows.

Her face fell.

Sara noticed Becky's sudden quietness and turned to see where her friend looked.

James sighed and stepped into the light. He could see the look of horror on the girl's face. True, she looked more like a pauper than any Lady he'd ever seen, but her reaction to him spoke numbers.

"Forgive me for startling you, I was just discussing my plans for dinners next week with Dorris."

Sara whirled and exclaimed happily. If she was flushed before with the excitement of a babe in the house and her dear friend at her side, she positively glowed now at seeing James. She grabbed hold of his hand and dragged him towards Becky.

"Becky, this is James."

Colour returned once Becky had a good look at his face, and she curtsied politely. She was relieved to note that Sara was too enamoured in this man to have noticed her momentary distress. And for that, she was greatly relieved.

"Dorris, I was wondering if you could have some water sent up for a bath for Becky."

While Sara had her back turned to both James and Becky, James took the moment to study Becky. Her initial reaction had had him thinking that she was shocked to see a gentleman in the kitchen, but after seeing him up close, she'd relaxed. So it wasn't the fact that it was a man of the peerage in the kitchen that had distressed her, but rather his face. He'd never met the girl before, which meant that her reaction was for a man whose face was similar to his own. Robert's.

What the devil was going on here? Becky clearly recognized him, or rather, someone who was similar in face. He excused himself gruffly and stormed out of the kitchen and out of the house, his bed and weariness forgotten.

The three ladies watched him stomp off with confusion, then they as one turned began collecting hot water for a bath.

-

Sara held little Liz in her arms, only a little discomforted with being responsible for the baby. She'd held numerous babes in India, but this one seemed more fragile, perhaps because Liz was so much younger than the one's she'd held before. Liz stared up at her with clear blue eyes, Sara made a goofy face garnering a gummy smile.

From behind the privacy screen, Becky sighed deeply and sunk further below the hot water. "Oh Miss Sara, I would never have thought that I'd ever have such a luxury as this." Her hair curled into ringlets around her face from the steam of the bath. Sara noted with surprise how much it softened Becky's normally harsher face.

Lifting baby Liz to her shoulder, Sara went to her armoire and flung the doors open. She had by no means a large wardrobe, but to her it was more than enough. She bounced on her toes, kissing Liz's head every now and then, and quietly looked over the dresses that hung there. James had procured a number of dresses, all which had to be fitted for her by Dorris, where they came from Sara hadn't a clue. She had adamantly told him, however, to stop bringing them to her after the first dozen for she had no use for so many.

She fingered a solemn, but rich burgundy coloured dress and pulled it from the armoire. She studied it and deemed it worthy and hung it over the back of an upholstered chair for Becky. The warm colour would brighten Becky's face considerably. And with a little fixing with the hair, Becky would look beautiful. Something that Sara was sure that Becky had never felt before.

Becky called softly from behind the screen, "Miss Sara?" she hesitated before saying anything more, "what are your intentions? Are you meaning to stay here forever?"

Showing Liz every little ornament and painting in the dressing room, Sara stilled and thought the question over. "I would like to find some employment to pay James and Lord Stonebrook back for their hospitality. I'm hoping that James will help with finding me employment…perhaps give a reference or something." She added quietly, "Miss Minchin never gave me any references."

Liz solemnly looked up into Sara's troubled face, the babe's expression appearing to be much older than what she was. Smiling softly, Sara brushed her fingers through the silky fine hair and kissed the child's brow, she wished with all her heart that she could guarantee the child have a safe future. "Perhaps we could find work together some place. Surely we can find something!"

Becky didn't say anything, then shyly asked for Sara to rinse her hair. Sara settled Liz in a makeshift cradle and came around the screen and picked up the two jugs of water that had been kept warm beside the fire. Modestly, Becky hugged knees to her chest and bent her head forward while Sara poured the warmed water over her.

"What about you, Becky?"

Waiting for the water to clear up a bit, she wiped her eyes then rested her chin on her knees. "I don't know…I'm sure I could have managed before Liz, even if I was cast out on the streets by Miss Minchin, but now…" she trailed off and shrugged helplessly. "I just need a place where Liz can stay. And I'm not giving her up!" she added vehemently.

"Nor should you," Sara said, as she took another jug of warm water and poured it over Becky. "At any rate, I was thinking of cleaning out the attic for James, as a repayment for his kindness. But for now, just relax and rest up. Something is bound to come our way."

Sara continued rinsing Becky's hair, until the water sitting at the side of the tub was gone. Then she left Becky to dry with a thick drying towel she left.

-

James threw the doors open to the study, certain that his brother was there as it was his favourite room to relax in. He paused and let his eyes adjust to the dim interior and marched in and looked around, searching for his brother.

"My, that was a fast recovery. I was positive that you'd be out for a good day with the amount of whiskey you drank. Why are you here, James?"

James turned, focusing on the direction his brother's voice had come from. Robert was carelessly reclined in a large chair, his legs stretched out before him and his hands comfortably crossed on his stomach. "Does the name Becky ring any bells?"

Robert frowned and considered the name, "No. Should it?"

"Possibly, if you're the father of her child."

Robert straightened and stood. He glared down at his brother and shouted, "Just what the hell are you accusing me of?"

"I thought it was rather obvious."

"Bloody hell, James, I'm not like that."

"How can you be so sure it's not yours!"

James watched his brother turn red then turn away. He almost missed the muttered words, "I haven't been with anyone for over a year."

James gave a bark of disbelief.

Robert spun on his heal and growled out, "It's true. I haven't…I just…"

"Just what?"

He looked miserable. "Sit down James. A lot happened when you were gone." Robert seated himself and buried his face in his hands. James took a seat opposite him and waited patiently for his brother to continue. The last time they'd had any close talk between themselves was before James had left. They had once been close, but James had ruined that when he'd signed up with the military and left his brother in the dust, leaving them both with unsaid words. Robert had been furious, not because they never reconciled, but because he had been afraid that he'd never see James again.

"I married Eleanor shortly after you left. Mother was ecstatic since this meant that I could start having heirs for the Ashcroft title, but I was miserable…just like you said I'd be. I wish I'd listened to you. I really did love her, it's just that she changed after we got married."

James let out his breath. "Why didn't you write me and tell me all this? Why didn't you tell me this when I got home?"

Robert snorted, "And have you rub it in my face?"

"I wouldn't have done that."

Robert stared as his hands and finally said, "I know. I just wanted to prove to myself that I could make it work. But it didn't work out that way. Eleanor was already pregnant when we got married. I didn't know it at the time, but I figured it out afterwards, since the babe came six months after we were wed.

"It was a still born. The mother's cord had wrapped itself around his throat. He was such a strong looking boy, James. He would have been strong." Robert couldn't help the sobs that broke through, it hurt still to have lost so much and that was over a year ago. "Eleanor blamed me for the death of him and locked herself in her room for a week before declaring that she didn't want to see me ever again."

James didn't know what to say, nor knew what to do. After a lengthy silence, he asked, "Where is Eleanor now?"

"Still in the country. Rumours say that she's with her lover. I don't really know though, I don't see her or even write. I don't take up a mistress because I don't want what happened to Eleanor happen to some other woman. Marrying someone in your class just because you're pregnant and not the one you love. I couldn't put someone through that." He looked up at James, "So you see, brother, this Becky cannot have my child."

"I'm sorry Robert...I didn't know."

"I know. And I'm sorry too for not telling you sooner."

James leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. Robert wouldn't lie to him, especially not about this. So who had Becky seen when she had looked at him if not himself nor Robert?


End file.
